Sil'Qun
“Choo got anyting on d’go dese days, Rot?” Red-rimmed eyes peered at me through a musky cloud of Peacebloom smoke. I shook my head, leaning back and inhaling deeply from the tip of the hookah I’d inserted into my gaping throat. The troll’s face twisted at the greedy suckling noise, but grew stony as soon as he noticed me watching him with an appraising eye. I pulled the hose from my throat and pointed the mucus-slicked tip at him. “Nothing that merits talking about, Sil’Qun. You didn’t invite me here to ask me how my day was.” He bared his rotted teeth in a frictionless brown smile that never touched his eyes, then tented his fingers and leaned forward. “True, Rot…choo ain’t d’kinda company Ah usually like t’keep. Y’do ‘ave you uses dough. Whatcha say y’do anodda job f’me?” I made a noncommittal sound and rolled a claw forward at my wrist, prompting him to continue. “Dis job be a littah bit different dan d’ones y’get from me, Rot, but d’pay…less jus’ say dat y’do dis ting f’me and y’become one of m’favorites. Ah take care of m’favorites, Rot. I take real good care.” He leaned back again with a look of immaculate self-satisfaction. “This isn’t how we’ve done business in the past, troll. What happened to the envelope method?” He shifted positions a little bit and graced me with a fawning, smarmy look that I could’ve done without. “Rot, y’tink d’worst of me wit no real reason to. Ah jus’ felt dat dis job could be usin’ a personal touch.” I nodded slowly, interested in the offer but more interested in holding my cards close to me. “You’ve given it all the personal touch I care to handle, Sil’Qun. Tell me what you’d have me do. You have thirty seconds.” I watched him wring his hands anxiously and look around the tent for about twenty of his seconds before he finally took a deep breath and looked me squarely in the eyes. “Ah want ‘Apa’s ‘ead as a trophy, Rot. Ah know she ain’t wit’ d’rest of us in d’wakin’ world at d’moment and dat she ain’t in any condition t’be fightin’ back. At best y’d ‘afta take out two protectors t’get at ‘er.” I scratched at one of my front teeth through my facemask with the tip of my index claw, quickly summing up the difficulty of the task, the secondary costs to me, and the potential backlash it could cause. “How much are you willing to offer me for this job, Sil’Qun? I’m not going to do this for the distinguished honour of being in your good books alone. Give me a figure, or a prize so that I can gauge how feasible this really is.” I rubbed at my side with the inside of my elbow, loosing the tie that held Frightalon along the inside of my forearm and watched him. He sighed and looked away, muttering. “Ah give you a t’ousand gold t’get me ‘er ‘ead, Rot.” I made a pleased sound and leaned forward, feigning interest. He smiled more honestly this time and leaned forward as well. “Ah see dat Ah’ve ‘it d’kinda number y’be likin’…” He was still smiling at first as I shot my arm forward, catching Frightalon as it flew from my sleeve and burying it in his throat in one fluid motion. I quickly retracted it and blood began to flow from his neck in rhythmic spurts. He thrashed around and gurgled, then began to violently choke on the blood that was pouring into his opened trachea. While he was still conscious, I rose to my feet and stood over him. “After considering your offer, I feel that I must formally reject it. A thousand gold is a handsome sum, but you were off by at least another thousand if you wanted me to honestly consider a job like that. Instead I’ll keep reporting to the Broken Horn and keep collecting my protection money. It’s much more stable work and I only occasionally have to deal with issues like this.” Just as he grew still from his choking fit, I drove my heel down into his gaping wound with sufficient force to be rewarded with the satisfying crunch of his spine snapping, then wiped Frightalon off on his tunic, took the bag of Peacebloom he’d left on the table and walked out.